But if that Fortune doth deny us this,
Then Neptune lock up with thy ocean key
This treasure to ourselves, and let them miss
Of so sweet riches: as unworthy they
To taste the great delights that we enjoy.
And let our harmony, so pleasing grown,
Content ourselves, whose errour ever is
Strange notes to like, and disesteem our own.

But, whither do my vows transport me now,
Without the compass of my course enjoin'd?
Alas! what honour can a voice so low
As this of mine expect hereby to find?
But, madam, this doth animate my mind,
That yet I shall be read among the rest,
And though I do not to perfection grow,
Yet something shall I be, though not the best.

OPINION, how dost thou molest
Th' affected mind of restless man?
Who following thee never can,
Nor ever shall attain to rest,
Forgetting what thou say'st is best;
Yet lo! that best he finds far wide
Of what thou promised'st before:
For in the same he look'd for more,
Which proves but small, when once 't is try'd.
Then something else thou find'st beside,

To draw him still from thought to thought:
When in the end all proves but nought.
Further from rest he finds him then,
Than at the first when he began.
O malecontent, seducing guest,
Contriver of our greatest woes,

Which born of wind, and fed with shows,
Dost nurse thyself in thine unrest,
Judging ungotten things the best,
Or what thou in conceit design'st,
And all things in the world dost deem
Not as they are, but as they seem :
Which shows their state thou ill defin'st:

And liv'st to come, in present pin'st.

For what thou hast, thou still dost lack:

O mind's tormentor, body's rack,
Vain promiser of that sweet rest
Which never any yet possess'd.

If we unto ambition tend,

Then dost thou draw our weakness on, With vain imagination

Of that which never hath an end.

Or if that lust we apprehend,

How doth that pleasant plague infest?

O what strange forms of luxury,
Thou straight dost cast t' entice us by?
And tell'st us that is ever best,

Which we have never yet possess'd,
And that more pleasure rests beside,
In something that we have not try'd :
And when the same likewise is had,
Then all is one, and all is bad.

This Antony can say is true,
And Cleopatra knows 't is so,
By th' experience of their woe.
She can say, she never knew
But that lust found pleasures new,

And was never satisfy'd: He can say by proof of toil, Ambition is a vulture vile,

That feeds upon the heart of pride, And finds no rest when all is try'd.

For worlds cannot confine the one; Th' other lists and bounds hath none; And both subvert the mind, the state, Procure destruction, envy, hate.

And now when all this is prov'd vain,
Yet opinion leaves not here,
But sticks to Cleopatra near,
Persuading now, how she shall gain
Honour by death, and fame attain,

And what a shame it was to live, Her kingdom lost, her lover dead: And so with this persuasion led, Despair doth such a courage give, That nought else can her mind relieve,

Nor yet divert her from that thought:
To this conclusion all is brought.
This is that rest this vain world lends,
To end in death, that all things ends.

But is it justice that all we,

The innocent poor multitude,

For great men's faults should punish'd be,
And to destruction thus pursu'd?

O why should th' Heavens us include,
Within the compass of their fall,
Who of themselves procured all?
Or do the gods (in close) decree,
Occasion take how to extrude

Man from the Earth with cruelty?
Ah no, the gods are ever just,
Our faults excuse their rigour must.

This is the period fate set down,
To Egypt's fat prosperity:
Which now unto her greatest grown,
Must perish thus, by course must die,
And some must be the causers why
This revolution must be wrought;
As born to bring their state to nought:
To change the people and the crown,
And purge the world's iniquity:

Which vice so far hath overgrown,
As we, so they that treat us thus,
Must one day perish like to us.

CHORUS.

FROM THE SAME.

Ó fearful frowning Nemisis,
Daughter of Justice most severe,
That art the world's great arbitress,
And queen of causes reigning here:
Whose swift sure hand is ever near
Eternal Justice, righting wrong:
Who never yet deferrest long
The prouds' decay, the weaks' redress:
But through thy power every where,
Dost raze the great, and raise the less;
The less made great doth ruin too,
To show the Earth what Heaven can do.

Thou from dark-clos'd eternity,

From thy black cloudy hidden seat, The world's disorders dost descry: Which when they swell so proudly great, Reversing th' order Nature set,

Thou giv'st thy all-confounding doom, Which none can know before it come. Th' inevitable destiny, Which neither wit nor strength can let, Fast chain'd unto necessity, In mortal things doth order so, Th' alternate course of weal or woe.

O how the pow'rs of Heaven do play
With travelled mortality:

And doth their weakness still betray,
In their best prosperity!
When being lifted up so high,

They look beyond themselves so far,
That to themselves they take no care;
Whilst swift confusion down doth lay
Their late proud mounting vanity:
Bringing their glory to decay,
And with the ruin of their fall,
Extinguish people, state, and all.
VOL. II.

CHORUS.

FROM THE SAME.

Mysterious Egypt, wonder-breeder,
Strict religion's strange observer,
State-orderer Zeal, the best rule-keeper,
Fost'ring still intemp'rate fervour:
O how cam'st thou to lose so wholly
All religion, law, and order?
And thus become the most unholy

Of all lands, that Nilus border?
How could confus'd Disorder enter
Where stern Law sat so severely?
How durst weak Lust and Riot venture
Th' eye of Justice looking nearly?
Could not those means that made thee great,
Be still the means to keep thy state?

Ah no, the course of things requireth
Change and alteration ever:
That same continuance man desireth,

Th' unconstant world yieldeth never. We in our counsels must be blinded,

And not see what doth import us: And oftentimes the thing least minded,

Is the thing that most must hurt us. Yet they that have the stern in guiding, "T is their fault that should prevent it, For oft they seeing their country sliding, Take their ease, as though contented. We imitate the greater powers, The prince's manners fashion ours.

Th' example of their light regarding,
Vulgar looseness much incenses:
Vice uncontrol'd grows wide enlarging,
Kings' small faults be great offences,
And this hath set the window open

Unto licence, lust, and riot:
This way confusion first found broken,
Whereby enter'd our disquiet,

PP

DEDICATION

OF THE

TRAGEDY OF PHILOTAS.

TO THE PRINCE.

To you, most hopeful prince, not as you are,
But as you may be, do I give these lines:
That when your judgment shall arrive so far,
As t' overlook th' intricate designs

Of uncontented man; you may behold
With what encounters greatest fortunes close,
What dangers, what attempts, what manifold
Encumbrances ambition undergoes;
How hardly men digest felicity;
How to th' intemperate, to the prodigal,
To wantonness, and unto luxury,
Many things want, but to ambition all.
And you shall find the greatest enemy
That man can have, is his prosperity.

Here shall you see how men disguise their ends,
And plant bad courses under pleasing shows,
How well presumption's broken ways defends,
Which clear-ey'd judgment gravely doth disclose.
Here shall you see how th' easy multitude,
Transported, take the party of distress;
And only out of passions do conclude,
Not out of judgment of mens' practices;

[bar,

How powers are thought to wrong, that wrongs de-
And kings not held in danger, though they are.
These ancient representments of times past,
Tell us that men have, do, and always run
The self-same line of action, and do cast
Their course alike, and nothing can be done,
Whilst they, their ends, and nature are the same:
But will be wrought upon the self-same frame.

This benefit, most noble prince, doth yield
The sure records of books, in which we find
The tenure of our state, how it was held
By all our ancestors, and in what kind
We hold the same, and likewise how in th' end
This frail possession of felicity
Shall to our late posterity descend
By the same patent of like destiny.
In them we find that nothing can accrue
To man, and his condition that is new.
Which images here figur'd in this wise,
I leave unto your more mature survey,
Amongst the vows that others sacrifice
Unto the hope of you, that you one day
Will give grace to this kind of harmony.
For know, great prince, when you shall come to
How that it is the fairest ornament

[know,

Of worthy times, to have those which may show
The deeds of power, and lively represent
The actions of a glorious government.
And is no lesser honour to a crown

T have writers, than have actors of renown.
And though you have a swannet of your own,
Within the banks of Doven, meditates
Sweet notes to you, and unto your renown,
The glory of his music dedicates,
And in a softy tune is set to sound
The deep reports of sullen tragedies:
Yet may this last of me be likewise found
Amongst the vows that others sacrifice

Unto the hope of you, that you one day May grace this now neglected harmony, Which set unto your glorious actions, may Record the same to all posterity.

Though I the remnant of another time, Am never like to see that happiness, Yet for the zeal that I have borne to rhyme, And to the Muses, wish that good success To others' travel, that in better place, And better comfort, they may be inchear'd Who shall deserve, and who shall have the grace To have a Muse held worthy to be heard. [know, And know, sweet prince, when you shall come to That 't is not in the pow'r of kings to raise A spirit for verse, that is not born thereto, Nor are they born in every prince's days: For late Eliza's reign gave birth to more Than all the kings of England did before.

And it may be, the genius of that time Would leave to her the glory in that kind, And that the utmost powers of English rhyme Should be within her peaceful reign confin'd; For since that time, our songs could never thrive, But lain as if forlorn; though in the prime Of this new raising season, we did strive To bring the best we could unto the time.

And I, although among the latter train,
And least of those that sung unto this land,
Have borne my part, though in an humble strain,
And pleased the gentler that did understand:
And never had my harmless pen at all
Distain'd with any loose immodesty,
Nor ever noted to be touch'd with gall,
T' aggravate the worst man's infamy.
But still have done the fairest offices
To virtue and the time; yet nought prevails,
And all our labours are without success,
For either favour or our virtue fails.
And therefore since I have outliv'd the date
Of former grace, acceptance, and delight,
I would my lines late born beyond the fate
Of her spent line, had never come to light;
So had I not been tax'd for wishing well,
Nor now mistaken by the censuring stage,
Nor, in my fame and reputation fell,

Which I esteem more than what all the age
Or th' earth can give. But years hath done this

wrong,

To make me write too much, and live too long.
And yet I grieve for that unfinish'd frame,
Which thou, dear Muse, didst vow to sacrifice
Unto the bed of peace, and in the same
Design our happiness to memorize,
Must, as it is, remain, though as it is:
It shall to after-times relate my zeal
To kings and unto right, to quietness,
And to the union of the commonweal.
But this may now seem a superfluous vow,
We have this peace; and thou hast sung enow.
And more than will be heard, and then as good
As not to write, as not be understood.

CHORUS.

SAMUEL DANIEL.

FROM THE SAME.

WE as the chorus of the vulgar, stand Spectators here, to see these great men play Their parts both of obedience and command, And censure all they do, and all they say.

For though we be esteem'd but ignorant,
Yet are we capable of truth, and know
Where they do well, and where their actions want
The grace that makes them prove the best in show:
And though we know not what they do within,
Where they attire their mysteries of state,
Yet know we by th' events what plots have been,
And how they all without do personate.

We see who well a meaner part became,
Fail in a greater and disgrace the same.
We see some worthy of advancement deem'd,
Save when they have it: some again have got
Good reputation, and been well-esteem'd
In place of greatness, which before were not.
We see affliction act a better scene [clean;
Than prosperous fortune, which hath marr'd it
We see that all which we have prais'd in some,
Have only been their fortune, not desert: [come,
Some war have grac'd, whom peace doth ill be-
And lustful ease hath blemish'd all their part:
We see Philotas acts his goodness ill,
And makes his passions to report of him
Worse than he is: and we do fear he will
Bring his free nature to b' intrap'd by them.
For sure there is some engine closely laid
Against his grace and greatness with the king:
And that unless his humours prove more stay'd,
We soon shall see his utter ruining.

And his affliction our compassion draws,
Which still looks on men's fortunes, not the cause.

CHORUS.

FROM THE SAME.

How dost thou wear, and weary out thy days,
Restless Ambition, never at an end!
Whose travels no Herculean pillar stays,
But still beyond thy rest thy labours tend,
Above good fortune thou thy hopes dost raise,
Still climbing, and yet never canst ascend:

For when thou hast attain'd unto the top
Of thy desires, thou hast not yet got up.
That height of fortune either is control'd
By some more pow'rful overlooking eye,
(That doth the fulness of thy grace withhold)
Or countercheck'd with some concurrency,
That it doth cost far more ado to hold
The height attain'd, than was to get so high,
Where stand thou canst not, but with careful toil,
Nor loose thy hold without thy utter spoil.
There dost thou struggle with thine own distrust,
And others' jealousies there counterplot,
Against some underworking pride, that must
Supplanted be, or else thou standest not;
There wrong is play'd with wrong, and he that thrusts
Down others, comes himself to have that lot.

The same concussion doth afflict his breast
That others shook, oppression is oppress'd.
That either happiness dwells not so high,
Or else above, whereto pride cannot rise:
And that the high'st of man's felicity,
But in the region of affliction lies:
And that we climb but up to misery.
High fortunes are but high calamities.

It is not in that sphere where peace doth move;
Rest dwells below it, happiness above.

For in this height of fortune are imbred
Those thund'ring fragors that affright the Earth:
From thence have all distemp'ratures their head,
That brings forth desolation, famine, dearth:
There certain order is disordered,
And there it is confusion hath her birth.
It is that height of fortune doth undo
Both her own quietness and others too.

CHORUS.

FROM THE SAME.

SEE how these great men clothe their private hate
In those fair colours of the public good;
And to effect their ends, pretend the state,
As if the state by their affections stood:
And arm'd with pow'r and princes' jealousies,
Will put the least conceit of discontent
Into the greatest rank of treacheries,
That no one action shall seem innocent:
Yea, valour, honour, bounty shall be made
As accessaries unto ends unjust:
And e'en the service of the state must lade
The needfull'st undertakings with distrust.
So that base vileness, idle luxury,

Seem safer far, than to do worthily.
Suspicion, full of eyes, and full of ears,
Doth through the tincture of her own conceit
See all things in the colours of her fears,
And truth itself must look like to deceit,
That what way ever the suspected take,
Still envy will most cunningly forelay
The ambush of their ruin, or will make
Their humours of themselves to take that way.
But this is still the fate of those that ares
By nature or their fortunes eminent,
Who either carried in conceit too far,
Do work their own or others' discontent,
Or else are deemed fit to be suppress'd,
Not for they are, but that they may be ill,
Since states have ever had far more unrest
By spirits of worth, than men of meaner skill;
And find, that those do always better prove,
Wh' are equal to employment, not above.
For self-opinion would be seen more wise,
T'han present counsels, customs, orders, laws:
And to the end to have them otherwise,
The commonwealth into cumbustion draws,

As if ordain'd t' embroil the world with wit,
As well as grossness, to dishonour it.

CHORUS.

FROM THE SAME.

GRECIAN AND PERSIAN.

PERSIAN.

WELL, then, I see there is small difference
Betwixt your state and ours; you civil Greeks,
You great contrivers of free governments,
Whose skill the world from out all countries seeks;
Those whom you call your kings, are but the same
As are our sovereign tyrants of the east ;

I see they only differ but in name,

Th' effects they show, agree, or near at least.